


Rather have you here

by Ernieselephants



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-25
Updated: 2014-08-25
Packaged: 2018-02-14 16:07:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2198145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ernieselephants/pseuds/Ernieselephants
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock plays the violin when he's sad and John knows to just listen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rather have you here

The sad notes drifted down the stairs and greeted John at the door. Slow, solemn, they had a heavy effect that depressed him in an instant. He knew by those notes that the man who held the violin was feeling his music or maybe the music was feeling for him  
“Oh, John,” Mrs. Hudson came peeking out of her flat, voice hushed but still loud by nature. “Sherlock’s in one of his moods again, best no disturb him.”  
The short man nodded, his forehead creasing in worry. Though annoyed that he couldn’t return to his home after a hard day’s work, he was more concerned than angry. There was something terrible about Sherlock’s depression, darkness within him, a feeling that build walls around him that only john could ever see through. Only when the walls were cracking anyways.  
John climbed the stairs but stopped at the landing. Quietly he sat there, laying his work stuff behind him and leaning leisurely on the door frame. The old wood disappeared behind him as he closed his eyes, the discomfort of the wall gone.  
Listening to the music, he was in the flat, with the smell of cigarettes and dusty shelves overwhelming him. The violin was only a foot way from where he sat in his chair; the little union jack pillow was squished behind him. Then the music would stop, with a flare, then maybe a bow and a pompous smirk from Sherlock.  
But no, the music stopped and it was silent. When he opened his eyes the hallways was real to him again.   
Through the key hole, he saw Sherlock sitting on the ground, legs crossed, the instrument still tucked carefully under his chin His arm was still up, fingers wrapped around the bow, settled on the strings but not moving to make the sweet notes sound. He was far from still though, John realized, he was shaking, the bow, his hands, his arms, yet his eyes were still open and his face pensive as it often was.  
John was debating coming in and standing him up, unsure of what was wrong.   
John,” Sherlock whispered. “I know you’re there.”   
Sheepishly he entered the room.  
“Why’d you wait John? I rather have you here.”


End file.
